Homecoming & Stowaway
by MagicSwede1965
Summary: Julie's backstory and how she came to the island. Follows 'Trial by Fire'.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story uses characters from the April 11, 1981, episode "Delphine/The Unkillable" (first story arc only). In this episode, Delphine MacNabb (played by Ann Jillian) was presented as Roarke's goddaughter. Since Julie was also identified as Roarke's goddaughter when she appeared on the series, I decided they would be sisters...but with a twist. This is an attempt to provide a backstory for Julie and Delphine. They, along with Roarke and Tattoo, are the creation of Leonard Goldberg and Aaron Spelling; but all other characters are the product of my imagination.  
  
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§ § § -- September 6, 1981  
  
Sixteen-year-old Leslie Hamilton woke with a start to the sound of tapping on her bedroom door. She sat up straight in bed and stared wide-eyed at Roarke, her guardian of the last year and a half. "Good morning!"  
  
"Good morning, yourself," said Roarke humorously. "What did I tell you about oversleeping today, of all days? You'd better hurry and get dressed so we're not late for the plane."  
  
Leslie leaped out of bed and rummaged in her closet. "I'll be there in ten minutes, Mr. Roarke," she promised breathlessly, and heard her guardian chuckle before he left to go downstairs.  
  
Since coming to live with Roarke early the previous year, Leslie had grown to think of beautiful Fantasy Island as her home. She had just started the eleventh grade at the island high school and had several close friends: Myeko Sensei, a cheerful, talkative girl of Japanese descent; the prickly, cynical Camille Ichino; Michiko Tokita, also with Japanese ancestry, a dainty girl with a lovely singing voice; Lauren McCormick, Camille's cousin; and Maureen Tomai, a down-to-earth blonde whose parents were refugees from Communist Romania. Leslie made fairly good grades in school, but had less interest in her academic pursuits than in helping her guardian and his diminutive assistant Tattoo with the fantasies they granted each weekend. Tattoo had early on predicted that Leslie would be popular with boys, but so far this hadn't come to pass. The only boy who took much notice of Leslie was Michiko's older brother Hachiro, whom everyone called "Toki"; and all he ever did was make fun of her for some reason.  
  
Now, Leslie swiftly donned a white dress with a full skirt, trimmed at the collar, cuffs and hem with black piping and decorated in front with black buttons. This was her usual attire when she went to the plane dock with Roarke and Tattoo; Roarke had helped her design the outfit when he realized she was quite serious about looking "professional" when she helped him and Tattoo greet their guests, and a local seamstress had sewn the dress for her. It made Leslie feel as if she were an internal part of her guardian's mysterious and fascinating business. She had no idea how much this amused Roarke, but he had never said a word, knowing that Leslie needed to feel as if she belonged somewhere. The teenager had been orphaned not long before her fifteenth birthday and had no living blood relatives, and as a result she had a number of emotional issues that would take years to be resolved. But she had clearly settled in here on the island and seemed happy.  
  
Roarke regarded the girl he had taken under his wing as she crossed the porch and joined him on the front steps. At the same time Tattoo appeared from another direction and all three greeted each other. On the ride to the plane dock, Tattoo remarked from the back seat, where he sat beside Leslie, "Are you finally going to tell us what's had you so excited lately, boss? You kind of remind me of a little kid at Christmas."  
  
Roarke chuckled from the front seat. "Try to contain your impatience just a little longer, my friend. It won't be long now. That goes for you too, Leslie."  
  
About ten minutes later, after everyone was in place and the band was playing, the first guests stepped off the plane. One was pale blonde and quite pretty, and held tightly to the hand of a handsome dark-haired man. The other woman, darker blonde, looked quite a bit younger; in fact, she hardly seemed much older than Leslie herself. "There they are at last!" Roarke exclaimed warmly. "The couple holding hands are Delphine and Greg Randolph; and the younger lady is Julie MacNabb. The two women are sisters...and they are also my goddaughters."  
  
"So that's what your secret was!" exclaimed Leslie. "You were expecting them! Do they have a fantasy?"  
  
Roarke smiled. "Not this time. You'll recall that Delphine was here a few months ago with a fantasy, but now she and her husband are happily married and have merely returned for a visit."  
  
"What about Miss MacNabb?" Tattoo asked.  
  
"She does have a fantasy of sorts," Roarke said. "Julie has yet to decide what she wants to do with her life. She has just graduated from college, and now she is somewhat at loose ends. She has been staying with Greg and Delphine since her graduation, and it's my understanding that she thought returning to Fantasy Island -- where she and Delphine grew up -- might help her to make a decision."  
  
Tattoo had obviously been thinking, judging from the expression on his broad, amiable features. "Is she magical, like her sister is? Are we gonna have problems with her making things disappear and so on?"  
  
Roarke laughed. "No, Julie has no magical powers, Tattoo, so you need not fear anything untoward. In a way, Julie has considered that something of a hindrance, and she has always felt herself to be in her sister's shadow. Perhaps returning to Fantasy Island will give her a chance to shine on her own."  
  
As the next wave of guests disembarked and Roarke grew involved in explaining their fantasies to Tattoo and Leslie, a solitary figure disentangled herself from them, casting one long, frightened look towards the figures clad in white before ducking into the thick undergrowth lest she be discovered. She was wearing jeans, sneakers and a worn blouse, and had a well-loaded backpack strapped to her back. She had come halfway around the world and certainly did not intend to be stopped now...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Roarke had a proper reunion with his goddaughters at the main house, and Julie was introduced to Leslie as well. Once the niceties and the catching up had been accomplished, Julie dug into her purse and, at some length, managed to extract a folded sheet of paper. "Here's the passenger manifest from today's flight," she said, handing it to Roarke. "This time we got some immigrants."  
  
"That's unusual," Delphine said in surprise. "They must have some kind of special quality to be allowed to come here to live, uncle." Leslie had learned just what she meant by this since coming to live here herself; she had come to realize that she had been extraordinarily fortunate. Fantasy Island was far and away the most difficult place on earth to which to immigrate; Roarke had instated this policy from the very beginning in order to protect the native Polynesian populations who had been here for countless centuries. Roarke's criteria for immigration were notoriously tough to meet, but the MacNabbs had easily passed -- for they bore powers not unlike those of magicians. Delphine had inherited them, as had her parents (who were very distant cousins); but peculiarly, Julie had not. Ostracized in their native Ireland, the sisters' parents had relocated to Fantasy Island a few years before Delphine was born.  
  
Roarke glanced at Delphine and smiled, but didn't comment. Setting the list aside, he focused his full attention on the sisters and Greg Randolph. "Your parents' house is still empty, Delphine and Julie, and I believe you will find the key in the usual place." For some reason Delphine smirked with amusement. "Do enjoy your vacation here, and if you need anything, you have only to ask. Welcome back."  
  
"It's good to be back home again," Delphine said and grinned at her husband.  
  
"I'll second that," agreed Julie enthusiastically. "Well, come on, sis, let's go get settled in."  
  
Once they had left, Roarke picked up the folded list and handed it to Leslie. "Would you please go to the hotel, Leslie, and find the names on the list that are marked with the letter I. Those are the immigrants, and I need to speak with them and process some paperwork. As you find them, send them along to the house, and when you have found them all, you can return here. Don't worry about how long it takes you."  
  
"Okay, Mr. Roarke," said Leslie. "Can I take a car?"  
  
Roarke hesitated. Leslie had gotten her license on her birthday four months before and was a competent enough driver; but he was surprised to find himself reacting like any parent at her request. Mentally he rebuked himself for such a reaction and nodded briskly, handing Leslie a key. "Drive carefully."  
  
Leslie rolled her eyes. "I will, Mr. Roarke. I always do, don't you know that?"  
  
Tattoo grinned and said sagely, "Parents always worry about their teenagers when they drive."  
  
Roarke cast his assistant a long, quelling look. Tattoo replied with an innocent stare, and Leslie giggled before hurrying out of the house, as if afraid Roarke would change his mind. She unfolded the paper and glanced through the names while she crossed the porch, and realized it might take her the rest of the day to find all the people on this list. Knowing as she did the hurdles that had to be overcome to become a resident of Fantasy Island, Leslie couldn't help but be curious as to what had qualified these newcomers. But she also knew full well that Roarke wouldn't say a word; he went to great lengths to respect people's privacy.  
  
She was exhausted by the end of the day and returned to the main house with an expression of defeat on her features. Roarke looked up when she came in. "Why are you so late, Leslie? The last group of immigrants was here and gone almost two hours ago. You did a good job."  
  
Leslie stopped in surprise. "What? But Mr. Roarke, I didn't find all the people on the list."  
  
Roarke frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Here." Leslie handed him the list. "I checked off all the names as I found them, and the last one is still unaccounted for."  
  
Roarke rapidly scanned the list and frowned again, then opened a desk drawer and extracted a second piece of paper which he compared with the first one. After a moment his features cleared. "You're right, Leslie. This is the original manifest. The one you have just handed me contains an unauthorized name." He met her surprised gaze. "It appears we have a stowaway somewhere on the island." 


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- September 6, 1981  
  
While Leslie was out looking for the new immigrants, Greg, Delphine and Julie had spent most of the day sightseeing rather than going directly to their childhood home. The two sisters had enjoyed showing Greg around the island and pointing out their favorite old places, reminiscing till Greg finally teased them that he'd heard enough old stories to last him the rest of his life. It was near sunset when they finally turned toward the old MacNabb house, armed with bags of groceries to get them through the weekend.  
  
"Home sweet home," Delphine said the moment the big stone house came into sight. "If you're planning to stay here for any length of time, Julie, you're gonna have some serious cleaning up to do."  
  
Julie shrugged. "It'll keep me busy while I'm trying to decide what I want to do next." She was a precocious twenty-one-year-old who had skipped a grade in school to graduate from college at this young age, and had decided to stay in the old family home till she had made up her mind what to do with her life. Come Monday she would be here alone; Delphine and Greg, who lived in California, were here only for the weekend.  
  
Delphine seemed particularly eager to see the house; neither she nor Julie had been there for many years. She headed right for the back door, which led into the kitchen, and swung out the shutter of the nearest window to reveal an old-fashioned skeleton key hanging off a hook. "Uncle was right," she said and grinned. "The key IS in the same place." She unlocked the door and all three squeezed inside, surveying the kitchen.  
  
Suddenly Julie let out an explosive sneeze. "Holy cow, it's so dusty in here!"  
  
"Who'd have guessed," retorted Delphine dryly. Julie scowled at her sister's back while Greg flipped the light switch by the door. The ceiling light showed a surprisingly thick layer of dust all over everything, even the floor. "Good Lord," Delphine said, going to the counter and swiping an index finger across it. "This is really nasty. You've got your work cut out for you, Julie."  
  
Julie's scowl grew deeper. "I suppose you're going to lie around all weekend while I do all the work." She gingerly drew a finger through the dust on the kitchen table. "What a mess. I don't think anyone's been here since Mom and Dad died."  
  
"Why should they have been?" demanded Greg curiously.  
  
"Well, somebody must have at least made sure the place was locked," Julie said. "The electricity still works, after all. You'd think maybe uncle, or one of the neighbors, would've dropped in every now and then, but I guess no one ever went inside. Look, you can even see our footprints all over this floor!"  
  
Delphine turned to eye her sister and said tartly, "Don't tell me you didn't hear uncle when he said he'd had the electricity turned on for us last night. Really, Julie, for such a smart kid, you can be incredibly dense sometimes. I'm going to check upstairs." With that, she exited, thinking as she did that she had forgotten how naïve and talkative her younger sister could be.  
  
Julie's scowl became a glare that Delphine never saw. Greg did, though, and laughed. "Lighten up, Julie," he teased. "Your sister isn't a monster."  
  
"I just forgot how bossy she can be," Julie muttered, beginning to unpack her grocery bag. Greg pitched in, and they were nearly finished when Delphine returned. By then Greg was asking Julie curious questions about her plans for the future.  
  
Julie shrugged uncomfortably, already growing tired of the subject. "I'll figure out something," she said. "Maybe uncle can help me out."  
  
"Don't expect to become his assistant along with Tattoo," Delphine warned her. "I'd say that job's already taken."  
  
"Huh?" Julie responded blankly.  
  
"By that kid he adopted," Greg filled in. "Whatever her name was."  
  
"Leslie something," Delphine said. "I'd say uncle has all the help he needs. If you thought you could work for him, you'll have to think again."  
  
Julie, fed up, shot Delphine another glare. "Come on, Delphine, give me a break. I never said I expected uncle to give me a job; I just thought maybe he had some ideas as to where I could find one."  
  
"He's too busy, you know that," Delphine said. "Why don't you get tomorrow's 'Fantasy Island Chronicle' and check the want ads...although I don't know as you'll have that much luck."  
  
Royally miffed, Julie stalked out of the kitchen just to get away. She really had forgotten how bossy and critical Delphine could be sometimes; just because she was twelve years older, she acted as though she knew it all. Julie had always been convinced that Delphine resented her for robbing her of her only-child status after twelve years, perhaps as much as she'd resented Delphine for constantly using her magic powers to play tricks on Julie. She was stewing so much that she was halfway up the stairs before she noticed a set of footprints on them that never should have been there.  
  
"Hey, guys?" Julie called out. "Someone's been up here!"  
  
"Yeah, me," came Delphine's annoyed response.  
  
"No, someone besides you," Julie shot back. "I see two sets of footprints on these stairs. And don't tell me you have four feet, or I promise I'll wring your neck."  
  
Delphine and Greg had both come into the living room and were staring at her from below. "Of course you see two sets of footprints," Delphine said, as though speaking to a small child. "My prints going up and my prints coming down."  
  
Julie's eyes narrowed abruptly. "That's not what I mean, drat you. There's another set you didn't make. Or maybe you did...Delphine Randolph, if you've been playing one of your nasty jokes on me...!"  
  
Delphine rolled her eyes. "I'm too old for silliness like that. Any mortal could have done it, even you. It doesn't take magic to make footprints."  
  
"Not a set that went upstairs but didn't come back down," Julie said. "Because that's what these do."  
  
"Pranksters. Intruders," Delphine suggested, but without much conviction.  
  
"Then how did they get back out?" Julie demanded. "Climb out? From a second-story window, no less!"  
  
Greg laughed suddenly. "Aw, come on," he said cheerfully. "It can't be all that big a deal. Del, honey, when you went up to check the bedrooms, you didn't notice anything missing, right? -- else you'd have said something. Jules, I think you've been watching too many campy horror movies. Why don't we lay off the haunted-house bit and have something to eat. We need to calm down. Everybody knows all kinds of mysterious and nutty things can happen on this island, but there's always an explanation sooner or later. Eventually we'll find out what caused these alleged footprints of yours, but for now let's just have some supper and call it a night. I'm bushed after the flights and all that running around."  
  
"I'll be down after I've checked my old room," Julie told him and climbed the rest of the stairs, scowling again and muttering to herself. "Who does that sister of mine think she is anyway? You're just as mortal as I am, Delphine Randolph, magic or not!"  
  
There were five spacious bedrooms upstairs, and Julie could see Delphine's footprints circling the hallway. The extra set of prints led toward the middle of the three rooms that faced the front of the house and then were lost from sight in the cream-colored carpet in that room. She hesitated momentarily in front of the doorway, then shuddered and decided to bypass the room for now in favor of her own room next door. It was as dusty as the others, but it was much as she remembered it; and she smiled and collapsed wearily onto the bed before realizing what a mistake that was. A huge cloud of dust billowed up around her. Coughing and sneezing, Julie rolled ungracefully off the bed and stumbled out of the room. If she and her sister and brother-in-law meant to sleep here tonight, they were going to have to wash all the bedding first.  
  
"You okay up there?" Greg's voice yelled from below. "Did the owner of those footprints come out and try to choke you to death?" Julie grimaced, hearing his laugh.  
  
"What a comedian you are," she yelled back. "I hope you've got supper ready down there -- we're gonna need the energy to wash all the sheets and stuff before we can get any sleep tonight." As for the footprints, she saw no reason to mention them. It looked as if that was one mystery she'd have to solve on her own. 


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- September 7, 1981  
  
"Okay, who left the bread bag open and all these toast crumbs on the counter?" Delphine exclaimed in annoyance the following morning. "That was a brand-new loaf of bread, and I'd swear it's half gone."  
  
Greg wandered in, yawning. "Must have been Julie. Guess she's got a mean midnight appetite."  
  
"Probably a nasty habit she developed in college," Delphine agreed, frowning. "Honestly, that kid..."  
  
Julie appeared in the doorway from the living room at precisely that moment. "You rang?" she said in irritation. "I heard you say 'kid', so obviously you were referring to me."  
  
"Good morning to you too," said Greg pleasantly.  
  
Before Julie could reply, Delphine broke in, "Did you eat all this bread? Or toast, or whatever? Look at this mess you made. I'm not cleaning this up."  
  
"What toast? I never woke up once last night," Julie said. "I was knocked out from that long flight."  
  
"Hey, you don't have to pretend you didn't do it, Jules," Greg said. "Anyone can get the munchies in the middle of the night."  
  
"I'm not pretending," Julie said stiffly. "I just said I never woke up last night. You shouldn't be blaming me for your nocturnal eating habits."  
  
"Okay, sure, Julie," Delphine murmured skeptically.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to believe me anyway. Hey...wait a minute. Maybe the person who ate the toast is the same person who left the footprints all over the stairs! You think so?"  
  
"Oh, geez. You and your stupid footprints," Delphine groaned. "The only footprints I ever saw were my own."  
  
"Then you must be the one who ate the toast," Greg said, chuckling. "Geez, you guys are making a federal case out of this."  
  
"Julie's the one trying to turn this whole weekend into a cheap mystery novel," Delphine remarked. "Do you want us to think the house is haunted or something?"  
  
Greg laughed. "First I ever heard of a ghost that ate bread, or toast, or whatever."  
  
"Well, somebody ate that toast, and it wasn't me," Julie announced firmly. "I'm getting dressed and going out job-hunting. I'm sure you won't miss me." She hurried upstairs to change her clothes. Despite her sister's warnings, she intended to drop in on their godfather for at least a few minutes, just to see if he had any ideas beyond checking the newspaper.  
  
As she was changing in her old room, she heard a thump from somewhere nearby. Pausing, Julie listened carefully, heart pounding in mingled fear and excitement. There HAD to be someone in this house besides herself, Greg and Delphine, although she wasn't quite willing to dismiss Greg's ghost idea. After all, Roarke had dealt with a ghost or two in his time.  
  
Another, louder thump sounded, finally startling Julie into action. She dashed downstairs to the telephone table in the hallway, checked to be sure there was a dial tone, then yanked open a drawer and found a little hardcover book in which her parents had kept addresses and phone numbers. She made enough noise that Delphine came out of the kitchen with a whisk and bowl in her arm. "Julie, what're you doing?"  
  
"I'm calling uncle," Julie said with determination. "There's someone upstairs. I heard noises."  
  
"Oh, for crying out loud!" Delphine burst out. "It's not bad enough you have to drive me and Greg crazy with your silly ideas, now you're bothering uncle with them too! You always did have an overactive imagination, Julie. Makes up for your lack of magical powers. Why don't you just forget it and leave uncle alone? He's way too busy to be bothered with your paranoia."  
  
"Will you stop patronizing me??" Julie shouted, finally losing the last of her patience. Delphine, startled, stepped back a pace or two. "I'm 21, Delphine, I'm not a little kid anymore! If you can't treat me like an adult, then I'd rather you just didn't talk to me at all!" With that she turned her back on her astonished sister and quickly dialed the number for the main house.  
  
"Yes," said a businesslike voice.  
  
"Hi, uncle, it's Julie. Has anybody on the island gone missing in the last few days?"  
  
"Hm? No, not on the island, although we are in fact looking for a passenger from the plane yesterday. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Well, weird things have been happening here," Julie said and told him about the footprints, the toast and the noises. "I think someone came into this house before we did, and I also think that person's still here!"  
  
"It's certainly worth looking into," Roarke agreed. "Very well, I'll send Tattoo and Leslie over."  
  
Relieved, Julie thanked him and hung up, then headed for the stairs to go and finish dressing. From behind her she heard Delphine say, "I still think it's all in your head," but Julie ignored her.  
  
About ten minutes later there was a quick rapping on the back door; Julie, who had come down for some of the pancakes Delphine had made, got up from her nearly-cleared plate and admitted Leslie and Tattoo. "Good morning, ladies, Mr. Randolph," Tattoo said cheerfully.  
  
Greg nodded, his mouth full, and Delphine said from the sink, "Hi, Tattoo." She had ended up cleaning the mess she'd claimed Julie had made in spite of herself.  
  
"So where's the intruder?" Tattoo asked with interest.  
  
"Upstairs, just follow me," said Julie. Leslie shot a shy smile in Delphine's and then Greg's directions, and trailed Julie and Tattoo in silence, gazing at her surroundings along the way.  
  
"I think it's the bedroom next to mine," Julie said as they climbed the stairs. "I know there's a lot of them now, but can you see the prints off to the right, that go up and don't come down?"  
  
"No," Tattoo said candidly. "Are you sure there were footprints there?"  
  
"Not you too," Julie complained. "Uncle believed me when I told him. We found the prints...well, I did, actually. Neither Delphine nor Greg would believe me. But you can't ignore it when you know everyone else in the house is in the kitchen but you hear banging noises from the room next door." They stopped in front of the bedroom next to Julie's, and she opened the door. They all stared, wide-eyed. The bed had been slept in; its covers were still rumpled. The closet door stood ajar, and on the desk under the window sat a plate covered with toast crumbs.  
  
"Well, that explains what happened to all that bread," Julie said, focusing on the plate.  
  
Leslie edged past her and Tattoo and paused warily in front of the closet door. There was only one way to find out if there was really a ghost, or something else, in there, and Leslie took a deep breath and flung the door fully open. Then she sucked in a sharp breath. "I...I think you might want to see this."  
  
Tattoo and Julie immediately came up to look. Curled up asleep on the closet floor was a bedraggled girl with long light-colored hair; even in her sleep, she protectively clutched a fraying backpack.  
  
Julie recovered first. "I'm getting Greg and Delphine. Serves 'em right for treating me like an overimaginative kindergartner. Just wait till they see this!" She rushed out of the room.  
  
Leslie looked at Tattoo. "Should I wake her up?"  
  
Tattoo nodded. "I think you'd better, before the others get up here. She'll probably be frightened enough as it is."  
  
Leslie nodded and got down on her knees, reached over and gently shook the strange girl. "Hey, wake up," she urged.  
  
The girl came to with a start; her eyes popped open and grew wide with fear at sight of Leslie. The two stared at each other, the stowaway clinging desperately to her backpack. "My name's Leslie," Leslie finally ventured. "What's yours?"  
  
The girl eyed her, every muscle tense and her body trembling slightly, but said nothing. Leslie drew her lower lip between her teeth and tried again. "We just want to help. Nobody's going to hurt you or anything. This is Tattoo, by the way." She gestured at her companion.  
  
"Won't you please come out?" Tattoo asked gently, essaying a smile. It usually worked on most females, but this one was clearly unimpressed, even though he meant only to put her at ease.  
  
Finally she spoke: "Är det sant att ingen kommer att skada mig?" Tattoo and Leslie peered at her, then at each other. Tattoo looked bewildered, but Leslie's expression was that of one struggling to remember.  
  
"Did you get that?" Tattoo asked.  
  
"I...it sounded like..." Abruptly Leslie's face cleared. "That's Swedish! I don't know the language, but I can recognize it. Gosh, it sure brings back memories." Face alight with hope, she turned back to the girl. "Are you from Sweden?" It was at that moment that Tattoo heard several sets of feet clumping up the stairs and went out to hold back Julie, Delphine and Greg, so as not to scare the newcomer any further.  
  
The girl nodded warily. "Ja, jag kommer ifrån Sverige."  
  
Leslie understood the nod at least, if nothing else. "My grandmother was from Sweden, and I remember she used to speak Swedish sometimes. Can you speak any English?"  
  
The girl gazed at her for a long moment, then drew in a deep breath and said slowly, "Yes, I can speak English...but now that I am found, what will you do? I know I am on this island without permission. Will you put me in jail?"  
  
"Oh no, honest we won't! We just want to find out how and why you came here, and to see if we can help you. Mr. Roarke's my guardian and he took me in when I had no one else. He's the nicest, kindest person in the world, and he'd never treat you like a criminal. He'll listen to your story before he does anything else."  
  
The girl blinked. "Then you live with Mr. Roarke! Everyone all over the world knows him. Yes, then I will come with you." Leslie backed up a few paces, and the Swedish girl came out of the closet and stood up. Her long golden hair shone gently in the light.  
  
"What's your name?" Leslie prompted again, noting Tattoo and the others crowded in the doorway.  
  
The Swedish girl cleared her throat. "I am called Frida Olsson," she said.  
  
"Is that the name that was on your copy of the passenger manifest, Leslie?" Tattoo asked.  
  
Leslie nodded. "Yup, that's the one. Glad to meet you, Frida, my name's Leslie Hamilton. Come on, Tattoo and I'll take you back to the main house."  
  
Delphine's face was a study in disbelief. "My God. Who'd have thought my crazy little sister was right after all. Can you imagine that, Greg?"  
  
Greg chuckled and remarked to Frida, "So you're our ghost. I hope the toast was good."  
  
Frida turned bright red and said almost inaudibly, "I am very sorry to be here wrongly. Please forgive me." Delphine's expression grew quite stern, and it was clear she was about to rebuke Frida.  
  
Julie rolled her eyes and, for good measure, slapped a hand over her sister's open mouth. "Shut up, you two, can't you? Don't pay any attention to them, Frida. As far as I'm concerned, you're forgiven and no harm's been done."  
  
Not till Tattoo, Leslie and Frida had left did Julie finally let Delphine go, and Delphine lost no time in rounding on her. "What was that all about? Were you afraid I was going to look like a fool just because that girl deserved a scolding, at the very least?"  
  
"No," Julie replied too sweetly, "you already did look like a fool. I just didn't want you doing the same thing to me with that big bossy mouth of yours." Greg laughed outright, despite the disgusted glare Delphine favored him with, and Julie seized her purse and made her escape while the going was good. She hoped her godfather wouldn't be too hard on Frida; it looked as if the poor girl had nowhere else to go. 


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § - September 7, 1981  
  
Leslie drove back from the MacNabbs' home to the main house, wondering just what Roarke intended to do with Frida. She knew that Frida's fate depended partly on what kind of story she had to tell; but she'd be very sorry if Frida couldn't stay. For Leslie, the newcomer was like a link, however tenuous, to the beloved grandmother who had died so many years before.  
  
Frida reacted to her first sight of the main house much as Leslie had. "You live here?" she breathed when Leslie stopped the car beside the fountain in front.  
  
"Yes, that's my room," Leslie told her, pointing to a front-facing dormer. She and Tattoo got out of the car and started for the porch; Frida followed their lead but hung behind, a nervous look on her features. She had the kind of expressive face that was utterly incapable of hiding emotions; her apprehension even seemed to gleam out of her dark-blue eyes. Leslie glanced back to be sure Frida was still with them and smiled in understanding. "Don't worry, it'll be okay, really. I was just as nervous as you when I first came here, but now this feels more like home than any other place I've ever lived."  
  
Frida tried a return smile, which failed miserably, and wordlessly trailed Leslie and Tattoo across the porch and through the door. In Roarke's office, the décor clearly made an impression on her even through her fear, and for a moment her face was suffused with wonder as she took in her new surroundings. Roarke half rose when he saw them.  
  
"It's just us, Mr. Roarke," Leslie said unnecessarily.  
  
"Indeed," Roarke replied. He turned his attention on Frida, whose fascination with his study had worn off enough that her worried expression had returned in full force. "You must be Frida Olsson. I am Mr. Roarke." His voice grew crisp and businesslike, scaring Frida more than ever so that she completely forgot every word of English she had ever learned.  
  
Tattoo's mouth dropped open when Frida bobbed a quick curtsy and squeaked, "Angenämt, min herre, goddag." The phrase, however, brought an answering smile from Roarke, and Leslie wondered in amazement if he could actually speak Swedish.  
  
Before she could ask, Roarke gestured at the chairs. "Do sit down, please, Frida. Is there anything we can get for you before we begin?"  
  
Frida swallowed audibly and managed this time to speak in English, albeit somewhat broken. "If it is not trouble, I wish something to drink."  
  
"Of course. Leslie, would you please go to the kitchen and bring back some lemonade? You might bring enough for all of us." Leslie, who had wanted very much to hear Frida's story, bit back a disappointed sigh and went out to fill her guardian's request.  
  
Roarke might have waited for her to return, but he realized that this would merely intimidate Frida all the more. It was better to start now. "So, young lady, where do you come from?"  
  
Frida shifted uneasily in her chair. "I come from Västerås, Sweden," she began slowly. "When I were...was a baby, some people adopted me. I have never had brothers or sisters. My adopting parents were not kind people. When I did something wrong, they would hurt me." She was no longer focusing directly on Roarke, concentrating instead on finding the right English words to express herself. "They wanted me to feel lucky that they adopted me, but I never felt so. I wished for so long to find my real parents, but this is very difficult...and someone said that they are dead, so I could never find them. But I wished still." She cast Roarke a plaintive glance. "No one would help me to do this, and if they are dead I suppose it does not really matter."  
  
"I see," said Roarke. At that point Leslie returned with a tray bearing four glasses of lemonade. As soon as each of them had taken a glass and Leslie had settled down in the other chair, Roarke nodded at Frida to continue.  
  
"Tusen tack, Leslie," Frida said, and Leslie smiled back. This was a phrase she remembered her grandmother using quite frequently. Frida took a long gulp of lemonade before resuming her story. "I think perhaps my adopting parents were sorry that they took me. Strange things happened sometimes, things I cannot control."  
  
Roarke leaned forward, his expression intense. "What sort of things?"  
  
Frida hesitated long enough that Roarke opened his mouth to prompt her; but she saw him and blurted in a panic, "I make people think things." Both Tattoo and Leslie looked puzzled; Roarke frowned, and Frida blundered on. "I look at a person and think something that I wish that person to think, and then the person thinks that thing. If it is something I wish the person to do, then he does it."  
  
"But how..." Tattoo began, then let the question trail off, as if unsure how he wanted to ask it.  
  
"Tell us exactly how you made your journey here, Frida," Roarke requested gently.  
  
"My adopting parents died," Frida said softly. "They left some money, and I got more when I sold our furniture and other things. I took only some clothes and a few things I loved. So first I buy a train ticket to Stockholm. Then I buy an airplane ticket that fly to New York City and next to Los Angeles." Her voice grew increasingly shaky and her English deteriorated as she went on. "But I knew not that it cost so much, and when I am in Los Angeles I see that all the money is gone. I went to the place where they put suitcases on the plane and go inside that place. And so here I am going to Honolulu."  
  
"What happened after you got there?" Tattoo asked.  
  
"I saw signs to show me how to go to the Fantasy Island airplane. There is a lady there and she types a list when people give her small green papers. And I have no small green paper...so I look at a man at a counter, who has many of them, and I think, 'give me a ticket.' Just so. And then I walk to him and he give me a ticket. I give this lady the ticket, and she type my name on the list...and just so, I come to Fantasy Island."  
  
"Boss!" Tattoo burst out. "She's a con artist!"  
  
Frida put down her lemonade glass and broke down into sobs. "Nu kommer jag till fängelsen..." she wailed.  
  
Tattoo, the sudden recipient of a reproachful stare from Roarke, compressed his lips, cleared his throat noisily and looked at his shiny white shoes. Leslie leaned forward and tentatively patted Frida's shoulder, trying awkwardly to offer some comfort. To Roarke she said, "Frida's afraid she's going to jail, Mr. Roarke. She's been saying that practically ever since we found her at the MacNabbs' house. I think that's what she just said now. Can't we try to do something for her? She had no place to go, and she didn't know what else to do."  
  
"Do you want to try to find your real parents, Frida?" Tattoo asked.  
  
Frida shook her head, still sobbing. "Nej, nej..." She coughed, tried to get some control over herself. "No, they will not have me when I am born, so I know they will not have me now."  
  
Leslie looked doubtful. "Mr. Roarke, isn't there a law about finding birth parents? Don't you have to be a certain age before you can start going around looking for them? I mean, I don't know what the law says, but I never heard of anyone looking for their birth parents before they were at least eighteen. And even if they do start sooner than that, it always takes years to find them, if they ever do."  
  
Roarke nodded. "Well stated, Leslie," he said, making her feel about twelve feet tall for a moment. "But you must understand that the choice is entirely Frida's. If she has no desire to seek out the people who gave her life, then we must respect that decision."  
  
"I do understand that," Leslie said. "My point is, even if she did start searching for them now, she'd still have to have some place to stay till she found them. And since she doesn't want to look, then she needs it even more. She went through so much to get here. Can't she stay?"  
  
Roarke studied her. "My dear Leslie, do you realize what you are asking of me? We have no vacancies on the island: no empty hotel rooms, no available bungalows. What do you propose?"  
  
"She could stay in my room, at least for a couple of nights anyway, till the weekend guests leave. There'll be vacancies then."  
  
Roarke looked at her, then at Tattoo, who shrugged, and then back at Leslie. "You have a generous heart," he said warmly. "Very well then, Frida may stay in your room at least for tonight. We will find a cot for her to sleep on. Tomorrow will be soon enough to decide what to do from here." 


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- September 7, 1981  
  
"So, anything?" Greg inquired about mid-afternoon on Sunday. He and Delphine were packing; they had originally planned to leave Monday morning, but Greg's office in California had called him back. Julie had been lounging on their bed while they packed, poking through the "Fantasy Island Chronicle".  
  
"No, not on Fantasy Island," Julie said with a sigh. "All the jobs I'd be interested in are on other islands. I wish uncle did have something available...I'd settle for fifth-class go-fer if I could just get some kind of income."  
  
"And waste that college education I helped you pay for?" scolded Delphine. "Not on your life, little sister. Although for the life of me, I can't understand why you actually want to stay on the island, since there aren't any jobs here and Greg and I aren't going to be here. You're going to be rattling around this huge house all by yourself, you know. What on earth are you going to do all day when you're not running around begging people to give you work?"  
  
Julie, irked by Delphine's words, mutinously compressed her lips together. Greg grinned. "Del," he said cheerfully, "you're teeing Jules off again. You better finish packing, hon. We've got to make the next flight if we're going to be home at any kind of reasonable hour."  
  
"Well, then, let me go check the bathrooms," Delphine said with a put-upon sigh. "Every time we travel, it never fails...you always manage to forget something." She exited the room.  
  
Julie curled her lip after her sister's retreating back. "Why that bothers her is a mystery to me," she said, "since she could just conjure up a new one of whatever you forget."  
  
Greg let out a bark of laughter before shooting a guilty glance out the door and cutting his mirth short. "Good point, but don't let Delphine know I thought so. Look, I know she bosses you around a lot, but that's just her way of showing her concern. She's worried about you, you know. Okay, okay, we both realize you're 21 now, but let's face it, Jules...you only just got out of college. Want to know something? Personally I think your decision to come to Fantasy Island was about the best one you could have made. From your standpoint, you'll be out from under Del's thumb and she won't have the opportunity to play big bad older sister. From her side -- and I'll make sure to point this out to her, by the way -- you're in a place where people know you and you can go to someone you trust in case you ever need help. Here, you're out on your own, but you're not in some strange place where you know nobody."  
  
Julie stared at him. "How did my nutcase of a sister ever snag a great guy like you? If I ever get married, I hope he's as cool as you are."  
  
Greg grinned. "Thanks, Jules. And hey, we both have faith in you, even if Delphine carries on like she thinks otherwise. Got it?"  
  
Julie nodded, and at that moment Delphine returned. "There. Toothbrushes, shaving cream and comb. Are you finished yet?"  
  
"Yes, boss," Greg replied and saluted, and Julie giggled.  
  
Less than an hour later Julie, Delphine and Greg met Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie at the plane dock. Everyone said their goodbyes and Delphine gave Roarke a last hug. "Watch out for my kid sister," she said softly.  
  
"That we shall," Roarke replied for her ears only. "Have a safe and pleasant trip home."  
  
Once the plane had disappeared into the sky, Julie glanced around. "Hey, uncle, where's that girl Tattoo and Leslie found hiding at our house? Did you toss her in the slammer?"  
  
Roarke studied her in mild disapproval. "No, my dear Julie, we did not, uh, 'toss her in the slammer', as you so eloquently put it." Leslie giggled and Julie smiled sheepishly. "As a matter of fact," Roarke continued, "she is sharing Leslie's room until such time as more permanent living quarters can be found for her."  
  
Out of nowhere, Julie remembered her sister's words from earlier. "Uncle, I have an idea! Just a little while ago Delphine was nagging me about being all by myself in that big house. I've got plenty of extra bedrooms. Why don't you ask her if she'd like to live with me?"  
  
"What a great idea!" Leslie exclaimed.  
  
Roarke and Tattoo glanced at each other. "Sounds good to me, boss," Tattoo said.  
  
"Yes, it's an excellent suggestion," Roarke concurred. "In that case, suppose we put the idea to Frida now and see what she thinks of it."  
  
"Is that her name? Frida?" Julie asked.  
  
The foursome settled into the station wagon that sat nearby and Roarke started the car. "Yes," Leslie said, "her name's Frida Olsson and she came here all the way from Sweden. Wait till you hear how she did it." With that, she proceeded to tell Julie the entire story that she and her guardian and Tattoo had heard Frida tell while Roarke took them back to the main house.  
  
"What a story," Julie said, awed, when Leslie finally finished. "No wonder she was so afraid she was going to be punished. Well, until and unless she changes her mind about finding her real parents, or till she comes of age, she's welcome to live at my house. I won't even charge her rent as long as she keeps up her grades in school and helps me around the house. Let's see what she says."  
  
They found Frida sitting quietly in a chair, looking at a history book from Roarke's collection. "Frida, guess what...we've found a place you can stay for good!" Leslie burst out as soon as they came in.  
  
"Is it true? Where?" Then Frida saw Julie and sat up straight, her eyes wide with fear.  
  
Julie saw her reaction and smiled ruefully. "My house, Frida. Leslie told me your story, and it sounds like you've been through more than you can handle."  
  
"But...the other lady...I know she would not want me there," Frida protested.  
  
"That was my sister, Delphine, and she doesn't even live here," Julie said firmly. "Delphine's married and lives in California now -- in fact, she and her husband just left for home. So what I do with the house is up to me." She turned to Roarke. "If I remember Mom and Dad's will correctly, the house goes to whichever one of us girls decides to live permanently on Fantasy Island. Am I right?"  
  
"You have a good memory after eight years, Julie," Roarke said, nodding. "Yes, you're correct in that the house is solely yours to do with as you wish." He smiled at Frida. "It appears you have a home now."  
  
Frida stared at them all and finally smiled. "I heard stories that this island is magic. I think they must be true stories, because my bad luck is now good luck. Jag tackar dig ifrån hjärtet, Julie."  
  
Julie and Tattoo eyed her in puzzlement. Leslie ventured, "I think she's giving you a heartfelt thanks, Julie. Some of my grandmother's phrases have been coming back to me since Frida came here. If you're here long enough, Frida, you could teach me some Swedish. You make me feel closer to my grandmother."  
  
"Well," Julie said brightly, "then why don't we move you in right now? Of course, you're going to have to dust and vacuum and help clean up whatever room you pick, but as soon as you're done you can settle right in. The whole house needs to be aired out."  
  
"I'm not doing anything," Leslie said. "Could I come and help?"  
  
"Sure you can," Julie agreed. "I can use all the help I can get. I'll send out for Chinese food for us all. My treat for your help."  
  
Within the hour Julie and the two girls were hard at work cleaning the room Frida had chosen -- the same room where she had hidden when she first arrived. They chatted as they worked, at first just getting to know one another and trading vital statistics. They talked a little about where they had grown up, but it wasn't long before Julie's story took center stage. "So have you always lived here?" Leslie asked curiously.  
  
Julie sighed deeply. "No, this is the first time I've been back in years, actually. Delphine and I were both born here, but our parents died when I was 13 and Delphine was 25. Since she was of age, she took over my guardianship. I kind of grew up on the road. Delphine worked for years with a traveling magician, making him look legit with her own real magic. She quit when she got married a few months back, and by then I was almost done with college. Delphine didn't have any interest in living here permanently, though. Greg has a lucrative job in California, and she was more than willing to be with him there. So this house is legally mine, just like my parents' will stated."  
  
"Lucky you," said Leslie, a little envious.  
  
"Yeah, maybe I look lucky to you, but how am I going to keep up the property taxes on it, plus keep myself fed and clothed and the house in decent repair? Not only that, but I'm supporting Frida too. I've really got to find a job of some kind. I majored in accounting, which sounds impressive enough, but it's turning out to be impossible to find a job on Fantasy Island. Uncle does his own accounting, so that's out."  
  
"Mr. Roarke is your uncle?" Frida asked.  
  
"No, he's actually my godfather, and Delphine's too. We just always called him uncle since he and our mom and dad were such close friends, on account of how he helped them by granting them citizenship here."  
  
"So your parents came here, then," Frida murmured, smoothing out the spread on the bed.  
  
"How?" asked Leslie.  
  
Julie was silent for a moment, as if unsure what to say. Finally she studied the two girls, who now were both focusing their full attention on her. "Can you two keep a secret?"  
  
Leslie and Frida nodded eagerly. "Sure," Leslie said.  
  
Julie cleared her throat. "Well, my family has magic powers. The story goes that a couple and a half centuries ago, this ancestor of mine, one Farley MacNabb, stumbled over not one, but a dozen leprechauns making off with a pot of gold. He actually caught the whole bunch of them somehow, and naturally got himself the gold too. So as a reward for something so unprecedented, he was granted not only lifelong good luck, but also a wish."  
  
"Boy, he really hit the jackpot," Leslie commented. "What'd he wish for?"  
  
Julie grinned. "Farley MacNabb was no fool. He was thinking of that old fairy tale where this couple gets three wishes and wastes them on really stupid things, and he had no intention of blowing this opportunity. So he requested that he and all his descendants from then on be blessed with special magical powers like the leprechauns had. Of course they balked at that idea, and there was an awful row going on. And then, who should appear on the scene but Mr. Roarke."  
  
"You're putting me on," Leslie said skeptically.  
  
"Well, that's what family lore says...we never had the guts to come right out and ask him if it was true. I guess that would have been in the days before he acquired Fantasy Island. Anyway, he came upon Farley MacNabb and those fickle little leprechauns in the middle of their argument; and when he heard both sides of the story, he told them that old Farley had legitimately caught them and they'd made the offer, after all. So they had to give him what he asked for. They didn't like it, but they granted his request.  
  
"Looking back on it, I think those little rats were pretty clever. They might've had to give Farley his wish, but in a way they still got the better of him. See, what happened is that the magic was programmed into a gene that could be passed down like any other gene. But those leprechauns added a little mutation that no one in the family ever knew about till I came along, as far as we know. Basically, any MacNabb born after his parents are 40 years old gets a dormant version of the gene - it kind of 'shuts off' and that kid doesn't get the magic powers. His kids will, as long as he has them before his fortieth birthday, but he himself will be just as normal as the two of you."  
  
"So?" prompted Leslie.  
  
"My parents were in their late 20s when Delphine was born, but by the time I was born, they were both past 40. So I got the dormant version of the magic gene. That's why Delphine has the magical powers but I don't. For years I was convinced I was adopted because I was the only one in the family who had no magic. My parents finally got fed up when I was around eight and went to Mr. Roarke to find out what the problem was, and he did some research and figured it out." Julie sighed again. "Delphine moved out when I was ten, and up till then she used her powers to play every trick she could think of on me. She used to drive me crazy. I ought to be permanently scarred from all that." She grinned.  
  
"Does Delphine still use her magic?" Leslie asked.  
  
"Sometimes," Julie said. "When she met Greg, she didn't tell him about her powers. She was afraid he'd drop her flat if he knew. But when she finally told him, he took it really well, and sometimes he even teases her about it. But I bet she hasn't told him that the magic gene is a dominant one, so if she and Greg ever have kids, he's going to have a bunch of little magicians on his hands. That is, unless they wait till after she's 40."  
  
They heard the doorbell downstairs then, and Julie brightened. "There's our Chinese. Why don't we eat, and we can talk about getting you settled in school tomorrow, Frida. And I get to go out job-hunting again." She grimaced, making the girls laugh. Julie had wished for the family magic all her life; now she wished for it again, so she could conjure herself a nice job. 


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- September 8, 1981  
  
Frida settled quite nicely in school, especially since Leslie was there to help guide her through it. Fantasy Island, being closest to American soil (though sovereign in and of itself), had adopted the American school system, which was completely unfamiliar to Frida. The school was large; there was a U.S. Air Force base on nearby Coral Island, which was about half the size of its more famous neighbor and thus too small for more than an elementary school. Students from seventh grade up took a 40-minute ferry ride to Fantasy Island to attend school there. So Frida was overwhelmed by the sheer number of students and doubtless would have been at far more of a loss had Leslie not been with her.  
  
Leslie naturally introduced Frida to her friends; they all, except Camille Ichino, welcomed her with warmth. Camille studied the newcomer with suspicion and said very little to her. Leslie wasn't sure what made her appear so hostile, but she knew Camille well enough now to take in stride the fact that Camille was outwardly belligerent, especially to people she had just met. Leslie had always supposed Camille would tell her in her own time, but so far this hadn't happened, and Leslie wasn't one to pry.  
  
Leslie, Lauren and Myeko walked back to the MacNabb house with Frida after school let out for the day, and found Julie in the kitchen. The scent of apples and cinnamon saturated the air and the room was unusually warm. Julie turned at sight of them. "Hi, folks. Frida, how was your first day at school?"  
  
"I had a lot of confusion, but Leslie helped me," Frida said. "It smells like a very good taste in here."  
  
"Sure does," Lauren agreed, taking a deep breath.  
  
Julie squinted at her. "Do I know you? You look familiar somehow."  
  
Lauren grinned a little sheepishly. "I guess I should. You used to babysit us years ago. I was barely in third grade back then. I'm Lauren McCormick."  
  
Julie lit up with recollection. "That's right! Man, eight years sure changes people. So how's the family? I still remember your dad used to slip me an extra dollar because of Adrian."  
  
"Geez, you were robbed, then," Lauren bantered, making everyone else laugh. "Adrian's still a holy horror, only worse now that he's twelve. I actually have to lock the door to my room. I keep telling my mother he's gonna make a career out of reform school, but she always just laughs at me."  
  
Julie grinned. "It's nice to know that some things never change." At that point they heard a 'ding!' and she whirled around to pull open the oven door. "Stay awhile, guys. Have some apple pie. I've got vanilla ice cream to go with it, with cinnamon sprinkled on top."  
  
Frida helped Julie set out plates, silverware and glasses, and Julie poured lemonade for everyone while the girls had generous helpings of pie. "This is great!" Lauren praised. "I wish you'd baked us pie when you babysat us. Maybe Adrian would've eaten too much to be the pain in the rump he always was."  
  
"It really is good," Myeko agreed. "Camille's gonna be sorry she didn't come with us. For that matter, Maureen and Michiko will be, too. Maureen's mom runs a catering service, Julie, but even her pie isn't as good as yours."  
  
"Why is Michiko not here?" Frida asked.  
  
"She takes singing lessons after school," Myeko explained. "Someday I bet she'll be famous. You know, Julie, you should open a restaurant. Dessert only, of course." Everyone laughed.  
  
"Well, if there's one talent I had that my sister didn't, it was cooking," Julie said with a wry smile. "Not that she ever needed to learn how to cook, not with her magic. All she had to do was wave her hand, and out of nowhere there'd be a four-course dinner and a triple-tiered party cake."  
  
"That'd be my way to cook," Myeko said. "Like I said, though, you ought to open a restaurant."  
  
"Or maybe a bed and breakfast," Leslie put in. "Those places always seem to have the most exotic dishes, you know? I mean, it's a few cuts above going to a pancake house."  
  
Julie stared at her. "Leslie Hamilton, I think you're a genius. You may have just solved my problem!"  
  
Leslie looked blankly up at her. "What problem?"  
  
"I wasn't sure what I was going to do about getting a job, remember? Maybe if I turn this place into a bed and breakfast, I wouldn't need one!" Julie's dark eyes sparkled, and her face took on an excited glow. "I mean, this house is more than big enough to fit the bill, and maybe if I come up with an interesting breakfast menu, enough people would stay here that I could keep the bills paid."  
  
"You should ask Mr. Roarke," Leslie told her. "He'll probably really like the idea. He's always wondering where we're going to put all the vacationers, especially the ones who don't have fantasies. You know we never have enough room in the hotels and the bungalows are always the first to get filled up."  
  
Julie nodded firmly once, as though in confirmation. "Sold! This evening I'll head over to the main house and talk to uncle."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Roarke listened thoughtfully to Julie's plan, with Leslie contributing here and there, and finally smiled. "I must say, that is an excellent plan, Julie. Of course, you'll need to prepare the house for its role as a bed- and-breakfast inn, make sure it's up to code and in good repair, and purchase a great many accessories for it -- for example, extra linens and toiletries, dishes and cooking utensils...and you'll have to have housekeeping help."  
  
Julie's face fell. "But I don't have any extra money to buy all that with, or make any repairs...and especially not to hire a maid!"  
  
"That," said Roarke, rising from his chair behind the desk, "is where my proposal comes in, Julie. Business has gone up quite a bit in the past year, and Tattoo is nearly as busy as I am. He has been playing large roles in advising fantasizers in recent months, and has little time left over to perform the preparational duties we must carry out during the week between fantasies. And with Leslie in school, she is unable to take over all the things Tattoo used to do. I can use an extra assistant, Julie. Would you be willing?"  
  
Mouth agape, Julie gawked at her smiling godfather, her face childlike in its wonder at this offer. "Willing? I'd be thrilled, uncle!" She suddenly snapped her mouth closed and cocked her head at him in puzzlement. "Except...I thought you already had enough help. Delphine told me not to bother you with --"  
  
"Delphine means well, but I am afraid she misled you this time," Roarke said and chuckled. "Since marrying her husband, she has become a little too overconfident."  
  
Julie rolled her eyes and shot back, "As far as I'm concerned, she was ALWAYS too overconfident."  
  
Roarke laughed outright. "You are seeing her through the eyes of a younger sister, Julie. At any rate, I realize you may have to put off your ambitions to open a bed-and-breakfast inn, but it will be necessary for you to save the money you'll need to turn your house into an inn before you can begin taking in guests."  
  
"That's true," Julie agreed. "This way I can get that money, and in the meantime I have a source of income to live on and support Frida with. This solves everything. Thanks a million, uncle!"  
  
Roarke cleared his throat. "There is one small thing, Julie," he cautioned. "I must ask you to refrain from calling me 'uncle' when we have guests. It would look...unprofessional, shall we say."  
  
"No problem, uncle," Julie said amiably. "I'll just need a few days to practice calling you 'Mr. Roarke', that's all." She grinned gleefully. "Just wait till I tell Delphine. She'll never believe it...she was so sure I'd never find a job here and I'd be lost in that big old house. Thanks to you and to Leslie's idea, neither one of those is true now. You two are lifesavers. So when do I start?"  
  
"Tomorrow morning," Roarke said. "I have a great many things you'll need to do. And we'll have to get you a white suit of some kind if you are to help us greet the guests." He glanced between his goddaughter and his ward and chuckled unexpectedly. "With Tattoo and the two of you with me at the plane dock every weekend, it will appear that we have more hosts than guests."  
  
Julie and Leslie both laughed. "If we're that popular, we might need the extra hosts," Julie remarked. "Well, thanks again, uncle...I mean, Mr. Roarke. I'll see you here tomorrow morning."  
  
Leslie studied her guardian when Julie had left. "Mr. Roarke, if I weren't in school, could I do the things you just hired Julie to do?"  
  
Roarke turned and gazed at her with a contemplative expression that was just a little exaggerated. "Do you think you've learned enough in your time on Fantasy Island that you're capable of handling such things? After all, once Julie has saved enough money to open her home as an inn, she won't need this job any longer, and I will need someone who knows what she's doing."  
  
Leslie eyed him dubiously for a moment, trying to decide whether he was teasing her. "Does that mean I have a shot at it, then?" she persisted.  
  
Roarke gave her an enigmatic look. "Perhaps. One can never tell what the future will bring."  
  
"They can if it's you," Leslie retorted.  
  
Roarke eyed her sternly and she smirked. Finally he relented, laughed and said, "Go on to bed, young lady." She giggled, said good night and trotted up the stairs, leaving her guardian smiling after her.  
  
THE END 


End file.
